Hush (Black Lotus #3)(61)
I flick my head to my dad, and he catches my shift immediately, apologizing, “I’m sorry. Habit after nearly fifteen years.” He then looks to Declan again and corrects to appease me. “Call me Steve.”
“I ordered up some breakfast,” Declan says and leads my dad to the dining table that seats eight.
“This room is impressive,” he notes as we take our seats next to each other.
I lay the daisies on the table in front of me, suddenly feeling nervous. My dad senses my unease right away, takes my hand in his, and smiles at me. “I’m nervous too.”
“You are?”
“Yes,” he says through an awkward laugh.
“Steve, would you like some coffee?”
“Sounds great, Declan. Thank you.”
Declan pours a mug of coffee for my dad, a tea cup of hot water for me, and then takes a seat across the table from us.
I pluck a buttery croissant from the platter in front of us and then dunk a bag of tea into my cup. The silence between us is thick, and when I look up, my dad is staring at me over the rim of his mug, which makes me pause.
“What?”
With a grin on his face, he shakes his head and answers, “The last time I saw you, you were sipping make-believe tea, and now here you are, all grown up, drinking the real thing.”
I smile through the heartbreaking memories of that day. “And I remember you licking imaginary frosting from your imaginary cupcake. You didn’t even use a napkin.”
“You remember that?”
I nod as the ache inflames. “I remember every detail from that day.”
My eyes brim with tears, and I fight hard to keep them from falling.
“I’m so sorry that had to happen in front of you. It killed me to know that was your last image of me.”
“You’re here now.” I need to steer away from what will ultimately break me if I think about it too much. “And oddly enough,” I add with a smirk, “this kind of reminds me of that last tea party. I mean, I don’t have a sparkly princess dress on, but I’ve got my pink daisies, tea, snacks, and you.”
“True,” he says. “But back then, I was your prince. And it seems that position is no longer available.”
I turn to Declan who comically lifts his coffee cup in accomplished pride and exaggerated dignity, and I laugh.
“He’s seems like a suitable replacement, right?” my dad jokes.
“He fits the role perfectly.”
“Since that’s the case, an interrogation is in order, don’t you think?” my dad says.
“I’m up for the challenge, Steve.”
I take a sip of my tea, thoroughly enjoying the fact that the three of us can make light of the situation at hand, and at the same time, knowing I can share this huge piece of my past with Declan.
“So, I did indeed look you up on the Internet. You’re quite accomplished for being in your early thirties.”
“I’m a hard worker.”
“What took you from Scotland to Chicago?”
“My father had done a few developments in the States before I graduated with my master’s degree. I had always been interested in the business, so I moved here and worked with him for a little while before going out on my own. I found a great location in Chicago and decided to go for it.”
“Lotus, right?”
“That’s right,” Declan says.
“It’s an exquisite hotel,” I note to my dad.
“But now you’re in London?”
Declan takes a sip of his coffee before answering. “Yes. The build won’t begin for another year or so. I just bought the property and am currently working with the architects on the scope and concept for what I’m wanting out of the building.”
“You enjoy what you do?”
“I love it. I’m a hands-on man and the job lends itself to fulfill that capability. It’s also a great feeling to see the process from beginning to end.”
“I can only imagine the pride you must feel to see your ideas come to life,” he says before asking, “Tell me, how did the two of you meet?”
“I met him at the grand opening gala,” I tell him.
Seeming satisfied after grilling Declan, he then turns to me. “What about you? What is it that you do? Did you go to college?”
I’ve already lied to him and allowed him to believe I had a good childhood and lived in a loving foster home, which he na?vely took for truth, but I need him to believe it. I refuse to punish him with my reality, since he’s not to blame for his absence in my life. We were both robbed from each other and lied to, but I keep the lies alive and tell him some half-truths.
“My foster parents died before I was old enough to attend college. I lived with my brother for most of my life because of the financial situation we both found ourselves in. I did take a few classes here and there, but ultimately never got the chance to seriously pursue anything that would lead to a career.”
“Well, you must have done something right to be in the midst of people who were attending this gala. Doesn’t seem like something anyone off the streets could just attend; the hotel seems quite exclusive and private,” my dad says.
“I had a few friends in that circle,” I lie—sort of.
“So, how long ago was that?”